Way Of Sorrows

sick of these mother fuckers saying they gone pop shit
looking em in they eyes, i can tell the never dropped shit
walking up on the set, we cut his neck before the shock hit
out of my mind i'm psycho, bringing a rifle in the mosh pit
whatever it is, you not it

popping on these meds, it help to ease my fucking mind
stress up in my head, we struggle but we still gone shine
got me asking why, me lord? oh why oh why
the devil telling me lies every time i get high

smoke until the smoke clear

creeping out the mental institution
drugs i abuse them
i keep switching pills looking for a new solution
lungs yea i use them
guns yea i shoot them
conjure up my demons one by one and execute them

looking for a come up as i'm riding in the chevy
gripping something deadly, airplane mode up on the celly
he ain't shooting shit, he can barely hold it steady
wetto makavelli im the one that you can't bury